#I’ll be fixing that in the morning after some well deserved rest

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short

summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.

a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.

you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.

the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.

this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.

when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.

once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.

“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”

you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.

he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.

he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”

you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”

he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”

“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.

he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.

you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Honest (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: “Lady, I’m the manager and the only employee today. Get the hell out of my store.”

Words: 1070

Warnings: Language, suggestiveness??

A/N: I hate that lady and wish Rio had punted her into the sun. That's all.

-X-

From the moment you noticed the white-haired woman storming towards your counter, you knew you were in for a horrible interaction. Plastering a fake, cheerful smile, you greeted her.

“Good afternoon! Did you -”

“This place is a dump,” she hissed, slamming her goods onto the counter. “If my daughter was working in this place at your age, I would disown her. Are your parents proud of you?”

Blinking at her owlishly, you bristled with choked back fury. Truthfully, this wasn’t your normal job - nor was this your only job - but you were covering a shift for your mother, who’d taken your father to the hospital but couldn’t afford to close the small “mom and pop” shop. Being here was a favor, not your career, but some old, miserable bitch didn’t deserve your explanations and you weren’t going to dictate a dissertation of your life to a complete stranger.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked brusquely, scanning the few items before placing them in paper bags.

“Oh god, are you one of those hippies who forces paper over plastic? Get over it. Give me something that isn’t going to rip!” she hissed, digging out her wallet before her eyes go wide at the total. “With such horrible service, you’re still going to charge me that without some sort of compensation for my treatment? I’m certain you have some coupons or sale codes back there that you can use to fix your terrible mistakes. My god, do you need a roadmap?”

“H-horrible service? Ma’am, I…” you paused, looking at the stuff tucked into bags before shaking your head. You’d rather offer your parents money than accept this woman’s cash. “Get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, eyes narrowing in a manner you were certain she used to intimidate teenagers at the supermarket. “You can’t speak to me like this! I want your manager.”

Sliding the bags out of reach, you glared at her with unbridled disdain. “Lady, I’m the manager and the only employee today. Get the hell out of my store.”

“How dare you! I’ve been coming here for years! I’m good friends with the owner and when he hears about this…”

Your snort cut through her ramblings. “Oh, you know him, huh? Well, I’ll be sure to let my mother know her ‘good friend’ came in here acting like a rude, entitled, demented demon from the pits of hell instead of a civilized human being so that she knows to bar you from the shop. Anything else I can do for you before I call the sheriff - an actual good friend - to come escort you off the property?”

Mouth agape, you’d never seen a grown woman look so aghast before and truthfully, you didn’t give a shit. You weren’t some fresh-faced eighteen year old she could push around and bully.

Someone needed to tell her a thing or two and good news, you had the time and the attitude to do just that.

“I need those -“

Slamming your hand onto the counter, your smile grew unsettlingly wide. “Well, bless your heart, guess you better go find somewhere else to get ‘em, huh?”

-X-

After your interaction with the woman the day before, you had little interest in keeping the shop open for your mother another day, but as she tearfully explained she couldn’t return until the next morning, you swallowed your distaste and did as she asked.

“It’s one more day,” you mumbled to yourself, forehead resting in your hand as you sat on the lone stool. “Just one more day.”

You had nearly dozed off when the bell above the door signaled the arrival of your only patron so far. Glancing up, you greeted the dark-haired woman with a faint smile and wave.

“Howdy, how can I help you?”

The woman slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pursing her lips in an odd way that had you singling in on the softest looking mouth you’d ever seen. She was beautiful and mysterious and goddammit, you were so gay.

“Do you happen to know who was working yesterday?” she inquired, earning a slow brow arch.

“Yeah…” you drawled out slowly, carefully. “It was me.”

“Oh thank god, I’m glad you’re not some sad teenager who cried after she left,” she muttered, eyes locking on yours. “You had the unfortunate displeasure of speaking with my mother yesterday and I came to apologize. Not so much for her sake, but for my own because your shop sells fabulous face care products I can’t get anywhere else in this godforsaken town and I do not want to end up banned from here.”

Blinking slowly, you nodded after a moment. “Uh, yeah, no, you’re fine. I never woulda guessed she was your mother. She always like that?”

“Cantankerous and miserable? Yes. Has been my whole life.”

“Christ, I feel bad for you,” you blurted, eyes widening instantly as she began to cackle. “Uh, sorry, that was supposed to stay in my head.”

Her lips curled into a wicked smile and it left your insides full of butterflies.

“I like a girl who’s honest,” she teased, offering a hand. “Agatha Harkness.”

You shook her hand, marveling in the smooth skin as you absently gave your name in return. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted to her lips before fluttering back up to her gaze.

“I saw that little glance - you’re not as sneaky as you think,” Agatha purred, delighting in the warmth that flooded your cheeks. “What time do you get off… work?”

Glancing at the clock, 5:23 stared back at you tauntingly. The place had been dead all day and at this point, you were just wasting electricity.

Throwing caution to the wind, you shrugged, smirking at Agatha conspiratorially. “Right now if someone gives me a good enough reason.”

“How about you buy me a drink as an apology for my horrible childhood and if it goes well, maybe I’ll find a way to thoroughly apologize for all the trouble you went through yesterday?”

The sparkle in her eye and the way she stared at your lips pointedly for a moment left your heart racing, beating like horse hooves against your ribs. You were nodding before you even realized it, running through your mental checklist for closing the store.

“Give me ten minutes.”

-X-

You closed it in six.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

P.S. Do You Still Love Me| Pt3

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒConclusion: Can we fix this? ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Morning light couldn’t even filter through the curtains they were drawn so tightly. The only reason you woke was the slamming of the front door. You laid in bed for a few minutes, amounting the slamming to Minho, as Jisung tended to be a bit softer closing the doors ever since you once told him he would find a way to break a door one day. 

There was always little things you told him that he took into consideration. Little things that didn’t even really need to be fixed. But things he wanted to change for the sake of being perfect for you.

Maybe thats why…you thought

But you didn’t want perfect. 

You wanted Jisung.

Your head throbbed as you stirred, vaguely aware of the scent of Jisung lingering on the pillow beneath you. You squinted, trying to better piece together the fragments of last night, but the fog in your mind was heavy.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed,you spotted your phone on the nightstand. 

You wondered when someone had found the time to retrieve it, but you didn’t mull over it too much. Swiping away the notifications on your phone. Apology after apology from the one who had kissed you. A few messages from your friends, and then a message from Jisung.

I had to head to the studio. There is some hangover stew Minho hyung prepared for you if you like. And some orange juice in the fridge as well.  

You sighed as your finger hovered over the messages for a moment. 

Another message popped through. 

I’ll see you later, Y/N-ie. Rest up, please. I’ll be home soon.I asked Hyung for a half-day :/

Damn you Han Jisung. You thought as you held your hand to your chest. How could he be so considerate yet so infuriating at the same time. 

You looked around for a pair of slippers, and realized the ones Jisung had gotten you a while ago were slightly under the bed. You got down to grab them, but your hand nudged against a small box tucked beneath the frame. Curious, you reached further and pulled it out. 

It was plain, a little scuffed around the edges, with a lid that felt oddly heavy in your hands.

Inside, there were letters; neatly stacked, each one addressed to you.

Your heart skipped.

You hesitated, knowing that you weren’t meant to see these, but giving into the temptation of opening them. 

The first one was dated the day Jisung had broken things off with you. 

Hesitantly, you unfolded it, his familiar handwriting staring back at you. The crinkle of paper doing little to ground you in the moment.

The words were a bit smeared, obviously spread from the wetness of tears. The pattern showed he had spilled many.

Y/N, I know I hurt you today. I hurt myself too. I don’t even know if this is the right thing to do, but I felt like I couldn’t hold on to you while I was so lost in myself. You deserve so much better than that, better than me. But even now, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Jisung P.S. Do you still love me?

Your hands trembled as you unfolded the second letter, heart pounding in your chest.

Y/N, It’s been two weeks, and I still can’t stop thinking about the way your face crumpled when I said it was over. I didn’t want to hurt you- I never did. But I thought… maybe if I let you go, you could find someone who wouldn’t make you feel like you were always waiting on me. The truth? I wasn’t brave enough to face my fears. I wasn’t brave enough to tell you how much I needed you, even when I was falling apart. I was afraid that if I told you I was growing dependent, than you’d want to leave. Was that selfish of me? I wish I was more selfish. Selfish enough to keep you by my side, regardless of how you felt- or how I thought you felt. Because I was happy. And I like to think you were happy too. If I was selfish enough, maybe I could have gotten rid of my fear of being too undeserving. If I was selfish enough I could trick myself into not caring.  I wish I hadn’t cared.  I miss your laugh. I miss the way you’d throw a pillow at me when I teased you too much.  I miss you, Y/N. Every single day. Jisung P.S. Do you still love me?

Before you even finished the second letter you were already reaching for the third. 

And soon enough you were on the seventh letter.

Y/N, It’s been a month now, and I keep asking myself if I made the biggest mistake of my life. I can’t get your smile out of my head, no matter how hard I try. I thought I was doing the right thing- giving you space, giving you freedom. I thought I was being a hero, letting you go to find someone to make you happier. But all I did was rip my own heart out in the process. I don’t want you to be happy with someone else. I want you to be happy with me. I saw your favorite coffee shop today. I almost went in, hoping you’d be there. But what would I even say? Would you even want to see me? I don’t think I deserve your love anymore, but if there’s even the smallest chance you still feel something for me I’d jump at it. Regardless of any consequences. Jisung P.S. Do you still love me?

Then soon enough you were on the tenth, eleventh, twelfth. So many letters you almost lost count. But it was the last one that struck you the most. A letter Jisung had seemingly written the night before.

Y/N, You’re asleep right now. You’re curled up in my bed, wrapped in my hoodie like it’s some kind of armor, and my pillow’s soaked in tears you probably don’t even remember crying. You always did this thing where you hugged your pillow when you were upset, like it could shield you from the world. I hate that I’m the one who made you feel like you needed it. I don’t even know where to start, because there’s so much I want to say- so much I’ve held back for far too long. I thought leaving you was the right thing to do. I thought that by walking away, I was sparing you from…well, from me. But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong. When you looked at me tonight, your eyes full of hurt and confusion, it felt like someone had taken every piece of me and smashed it all over again. And then you said it. ‘I thought I did something wrong…’ You have no idea what those words did to me. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. You never did. I left because I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was saving you from the storm that comes with being near me. But I never stopped to think about how selfish that was. I thought it was selfish to want you, but time has made me realize it was selfish of me to do all that I’ve done. I didn’t ask if you wanted saving. I didn’t ask if you wanted to face that storm with me. I didn’t ask your feelings on anything. That was wrong and selfish. So very much so.  I hurt you, and in doing so, I hurt myself even worse. Every day since I left has been empty- like I’ve been living in black and white while you were the color in my world. I didn’t just walk away from you; It’s like I’ve been walking through my life wearing blinders ever since I let you go. I see the world, but it doesn’t feel real. Food doesn’t taste the same. Music doesn’t sound as good. Even the things I used to love feel hollow because you’re not there to share them with me. I find pieces of you everywhere. In the songs we used to listen to on repeat, in the shops we always went to, in the way the sunlight hits the sidewalk on those rare quiet mornings when the world feels like it’s holding its breath. It’s ridiculous, really- how you’re still everywhere, even though you’re nowhere near me. I try to pretend I’m okay. I smile for the cameras, laugh with the guys, and act like I’ve got it all together, but it’s just that- an act. Every time I hear someone call my name, I wish it was your voice. Every time my phone buzzes, I hope it’s you, even though I know better.

You swallowed, hands shaking.

Do you know how many times I almost called you? How many times I wrote out a message, only to delete it because I thought you’d moved on, or worse—that you hated me? I’ve kept every letter I wrote to you, every unsent apology, every unspoken word, because I couldn’t bear to throw them away. I walked away from my own happiness, from the person who made me feel like I could be enough. And now here you are. In my bed. Looking so small, so fragile, and all I can think about is how much I want to fix this. I want to fix us. Tonight, you called me a squirrel. Do you know how ridiculous that is? But somehow, even in your drunken haze, you managed to ask the one question I’ve been too afraid to answer for myself: Do I get lonely? Do I miss you like you miss me? The answer is yes. God, yes. I’ve never stopped being lonely since the moment I walked away. I’m so lonely without you that it feels like I’m suffocating. I miss you more than I have words for. I miss your smile, your warmth, your everything. I miss you in a way that’s so deep it’s become a part of me, and I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without you. You were always my safe place, Y/N. The person I could run to when the world felt too big, too overwhelming.  Do you remember the night we sat on the rooftop and you told me no matter how heavy my heart felt, I had people by my side who could help me handle it, and you held my hand while I cried. I don’t think I ever told you how much that meant to me. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I never told you enough. I didn’t tell you how much I loved the way you’d scrunch your nose when you were concentrating or how you always danced in the kitchen, even if there wasn’t any music.  I didn’t tell you how your laugh felt like the first day of spring after a long, bitter winter. I didn’t tell you that you were the one who made me feel like I wasn’t just enough, but more than enough.

You sniffed, trying hard to blink away your tears to no avail, before continuing.

I’ve thought about what I’d say to you if I could do it all over again. If I could rewind time to that moment where I made the biggest mistake of my life; I’d tell you the truth instead of running away. I’d tell you that I wasn’t leaving because of you; I was leaving because I didn’t feel good enough for you. I didn’t feel like I deserved someone as bright, as kind, as endlessly loving as you. I was scared, Y/N. Scared of dragging you down with me. Scared that my flaws, my insecurities, and all the baggage I carry would crush you. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, by giving you the chance to find someone better- someone who could love you the way you deserve to be loved. But I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. I see that now, and I hate myself for being so blind.  Because the truth is, no one could ever love you the way I do. It might sound egotistic to say but its the truth. No one could ever know you the way I do, with all your little quirks and habits that make you so…you.  No one could ever feel what I feel for you. They couldn’t even come close. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this time apart, it’s that love doesn’t go away just because you’re scared. It doesn’t fade just because you run from it.  Rather, It stays. It grows. It becomes a part of you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. And I love you, Y/N. I love you so much that it terrifies me, because I know what it means. It means that no matter where I go, no matter what I do, my heart will always be with you. It means that even if you tell me you don’t love me anymore, I’ll still love you. So I guess it won’t hurt to write once more. I love you. Jisung P.S. Do you still love me?

You sat frozen, the crumpled letter trembling in your hands as Jisung’s words crashed over you like a wave, pulling you under. Every sentence struck like a raw nerve, unraveling the walls you had built brick by brick to keep the pain at bay. Tears blurred your vision, dripping onto the paper as if your heart was spilling out along with them. You had wanted this, dreamed of this—of him finally saying the words you’d been desperate to hear. But now that they were in your hands, they felt too heavy, too full of everything you hadn’t let yourself feel in so long.

Your hands shook as you placed the letter on his desk, scanning the room for something—anything—to channel the emotions surging through you. The mess of his drawers caught your eye, half-open and chaotic, and before you could think, you were rifling through them, searching for a blank page and a pen. Papers and notebooks slid around under your fingers, faint traces of him clinging to the air, and for a moment, you hesitated. Did you really want to do this?

But the words were already bubbling up inside you, and you couldn’t stop them. You grabbed a sheet of paper and sat down, your hands trembling as you pressed the pen to the page. The first few lines came hesitantly, but then the floodgates opened, and everything you had been holding back poured out. You wrote with a desperation you didn’t fully understand, the scratching of the pen the only sound in the quiet room.

When you finally set the pen down, your chest felt lighter—but only just. You stared at the folded letter in your hands, running your fingers over the edge as you debated what to do next. For a brief moment, the weight of all that had passed between you felt like too much, like this might only bring more pain. But as you stood, gripping the letter tightly, a quiet determination settled over you.

You slipped the letter into your pocket, glancing back at the room one last time. Something about the stillness felt final, like you were closing a chapter, but whether it was the end or a new beginning, you couldn’t quite tell. With a deep breath, you stepped out of the room, clutching your words like a lifeline, ready to face whatever came next.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @holly-here

[ticklishraspberries]

Stubborn (Achilles/Patroclus)

Summary: Achilles has always been stubborn and prideful. Patroclus sees an opportunity to make the best of the Greeks give in, and takes it happily. (I just re-read this book the other day and was struck with the urge to write a fic for it. I know I haven't written in a while, and I haven't written for this fandom in years, so please be gentle, lmfao. I hope you enjoy!!)

Achilles is stubborn.

Patroclus knows this, has always known this, because he has never known Achilles to be anything but stubborn. For a child with such a weight on his shoulders, a prophecy on his head, the blood of the gods running through his veins — well, who can blame him?

If Achilles sets his mind to something, he will do it. Whether that be mastering the use of a spear, juggling figs, playing the lyre, or breaking through all of Patroclus’s walls, Achilles will do it, can do it.

It’s normally a positive trait, that determination. But in a young boy, it can get annoying quite fast. And Patroclus never usually finds Achilles annoying: He’s in awe of him, smitten by him, happily attached to his hip. But Patroclus is only human, after all, and there is only so much teasing one boy can take before he has to seek some sort of revenge.

Achilles has known that Patroclus is ticklish for years, one of the early discoveries that had brought them closer together. However, in all that time, Patroclus has never gotten the upper hand on Achilles, which is just entirely unfair.

“I’m not ticklish,” Achilles had said. It was a sunny afternoon on the grounds of his father’s palace. “I never have been, even when I was small.”

Patroclus bites back the urge to argue that he is still quite small. “Everyone says they aren’t ticklish, to stop others from trying.”

“You didn’t lie,” Achilles replied with a smirk.

Patroclus felt his face flush. “I knew you would try anyway. Lying would have done me no good.”

“I guess that’s true. Well, you don’t have to bother trying. I’ll just get you back twice as bad.”

What should have been a threat had not deterred him in the slightest, though, and Patroclus had tears of mirth streaked down his face within minutes.

It didn’t stop him from trying again, but Achilles was always one step ahead. He always saw it coming, and always grabbed at the offending hands before they even made contact, and smirked before pinning Patroclus to the grass or the mattress and tickling him half to tears for daring to try and tickle the best of the Greeks.

However, here, in Chiron’s cave, the morning is quiet and still. The centaur is off fetching something to fix a meal, and Achilles is asleep beside Patroclus, unclothed and lying in a particularly vulnerable position, one arm tucked beneath his head of golden hair. Patroclus isn’t sure what compels him to do it then, to ruin the peaceful moment, or why tickling Achilles is even at the forefront of his mind: They’re older now, and this is surely something childish, but the chance to startle a laugh from the other boy has never felt stronger.

Patroclus cuddles close to his side, stroking the hair from his face. Achilles barely stirs, only gives a pleasant hum in his sleep. It’s probably cruel to pull him from such a peaceful slumber, but he doesn’t care. How many mornings had Achilles jumped onto his bed at sunrise, pushing bony knees into his sides and shaking his shoulders, pressing their faces close and loudly announcing the break of a new day?

Maybe Achilles deserves a morning of ruined rest, too.

Patroclus doesn’t quite know where to start. In the past, he’s always tried the obvious places: Stomach, sides, feet. Achilles has never reacted in the expected ways, never cracking a smile or squirming away. Perhaps there’s another spot he can try?

His hand still lingers by Achilles’ face, and he brings it slowly towards his collarbone, his touch featherlight as it traces the curve there before moving up to stroke the side of his neck.

He’s surprised when Achilles twitches in his sleep, his brow furrowing and his shoulder shrugging upwards. This only encourages him further, bringing his other hand to Achilles’ ribs and repeating the same motion.

Achilles makes a noise somewhere between a giggle and a groan as he seems to slowly awaken, his arms lazily moving to push at Patroclus. He rolls over onto his side and tugs the sheet, trying to cover his body, but Patroclus pushes it away and scoots closer, throwing an arm over his waist and pulling his back flush against his own chest.

“I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he mutters in Achilles’ ear, making sure his lips brush against the shell of it.

Achilles shivers. “No one but you has ever really tried.”

“So, you admit it then? You are ticklish?” Patroclus asks, grinning. He’s tickling his belly with both hands now, hugging him around his middle so he can’t squirm away. Even with all his strength and stamina, Achilles is still tired and caught off guard, and his body is weak to resist as the soft laughter comes in waves.

Still, he says, “I don’t admit anything.” The sentence carries much less weight when it’s said between laughs, though.

Patroclus shouldn’t be surprised by this. Like he’s said, Achilles is stubborn. For someone who says he hates to lie, he omits the truth and dances around topics like this, to uphold both his integrity and his dignity. It’s quite endearing to watch, honestly.

Patroclus chuckles. “Of course you don’t,” he says.

In an obvious attempt to distract him from the tickling, Achilles flips over and presses their lips together, and Patroclus can’t help but kiss back. However, he’s not going to give in so easily.

He runs his fingers along Achilles’ lower back, up his spine, over his shoulder blades, the touch light and teasing, and he feels goosebumps rising over the skin. While soft touches like this usually tickle Patroclus, he knows Achilles will find them soothing, even sensual. Luring him into a false sense of security will help him regain that element of surprise.

It’s funny, how strategically Patroclus is thinking about something so obsolete. He plans like a war general whose enemy is the ego of his lover, and his attack is to send a fleet of tickling fingers to his weakest spots.

As they kiss, Patroclus grabs onto Achilles’ sides and squeezes them roughly, and a startled laugh falls from the half-god’s lips, his body shrinking away.

“Admit that you’re ticklish,” Patroclus says in a voice so unlike his usual tone, deeper and more commanding. There’s still plenty of mischief dancing behind it, though.

“Never,” Achilles grits out.

“Then I’ll never stop,” he replies. He figures there are worse things to fill his days with. Touching Achilles, hearing his laughter. It would be a quite fulfilling existence if you asked him.

He explores bits of sensitive flesh, but no spot seems to get a greater reaction than the crease where his thighs meet the sacred place between his legs. Pressing the pads of his fingers there actually makes Achilles whimper, and the sound is dizzying.

“Okay, okay,” he finally pants. “I’m ticklish!”

Patroclus stops instantly, rewarding Achilles for his good behavior. He presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, pushes back that golden hair once again.

“That’s what I thought.”

Breathless but smiling helplessly, Achilles nudges him in the ribs with his elbow. It’s rare to see him admit defeat, but it’s a beautiful sight. His flushed skin, his laughter lines.

Stubborn is an accurate way to describe Achilles, yes, but Patroclus will always mention his beauty first. Heroes are usually remembered for their fatal flaw, but Patroclus will always know him for the good things: The golden hair that cascades down his back like a waterfall. His determination, his resilience, his kindness. His laughter. The fact that even with godly blood in his veins, Achilles is just a boy, who juggles figs and is ticklish.

This, and this, and this. The good, the beautiful things.

[endless-summer-soldier]

rub down

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: after returning home from a tough mission, all you want is to relax and Bucky makes that so easy for you

warnings: 18+ only, smut, heavy foreplay, oral sex

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is an old draft that I never finished and finally found the time to close it out. not my best writing and little to no plot, but it scratches a certain itch ;)

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @almosttoopizza @esposadomd @charmedbysarge @zannemes @blackwood-bodecker-housewife

The minute you stepped into your room, you fell into bed. You mustered up all your remaining energy to strip off your sweat-soaked suit. Before your eyes completely glazed over, you took one final glance at your phone. 4:27 AM. You knew he wouldn’t be awake, but you sent him a quick text: home.

“Rise and shine, gorgeous,” Bucky called, in an effort to wake you up. He was peppering kisses up your neck to your jaw and cheek. 

“Mmm...morning,” you whispered, melting into Bucky’s arms. “I missed you,” you added.

“I missed you too, baby,” he replied, planting another kiss on your cheek. “How was the mission?”

You turned in his arms so that you were facing him. You forgot how it felt to be under his sparkling gaze. 

“It went well. We ambushed them pretty good, but we were outnumbered so it took a little longer to take the place down.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. A couple nicks and bruises, but nothing major. I’m just...exhausted.”

“I bet. I saw what time you got in last night. Sorry I couldn’t stay up for ya.”

“Oh it's fine. I didn’t expect you to.”

“So, what should we do today?”

“Mm...I just want to relax. Can we do nothing today?”

“I'd love to do nothing with you,” he gushed. You giggled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I’m gonna go for a run but how about you come over once you’re done with breakfast," he offered.

“And we can relax?” you asked.

“Absolutely.” He kissed your forehead and rolled out of bed as you curled back up into the sheets.

You snoozed for another hour or so before slowly making your way out of bed. You took a long, hot shower and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. 

Once in the kitchen, you fixed yourself some breakfast and a cup of coffee. You sat on the balcony as you ate, paging through your latest novel and slowly sipping from your large mug of coffee. It was nice not having to think about anything. That was one of your favorite parts of coming home after a mission, along with sleeping in your own bed with Bucky. You finished up the chapter you were on and retired inside. You figured Bucky would be back from his run and you wanted to spend the rest of the day with him.

You knocked twice on his door and he quickly responded with, “Come on in, darling.”

The lighting was dim and there were several candles lit around the room.

“What’s all this?” you inquired with a tone of surprise.

“Just wanted to do something special for you,” he said, pressing a kiss on your cheek. It was then you noticed the massage table set up in the middle of the room. 

“You didn’t have to do all this. I would’ve been perfectly happy just snuggling and watching Netflix.”

“I know you would’ve. And that’s why you deserve this.”

“Thank you,” you placed a gentle hand on his jaw and stood on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. 

“Now make yourself comfortable, I’ll come back in about ten minutes.”

You stripped down completely, placing your clothes together in a tiny pile. You tied your hair into a top knot and crawled onto the massage table, placing your head face down in the headrest and pulling the sheet over your bare back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep inhalations to start relaxing your mind. The door opened and then shut quietly, as gentle footsteps neared you. Suddenly the sound of water flowing downstream was softly playing in the background.

“How’s the temperature?” Bucky asked, referring to the heated massage table.

“Perfect.” You noticed the faintest scent of peppermint as you heard the sound of strong, oiled hands rubbing together.

You could sense Bucky standing by your head. “Now I want you to clear your mind and just relax. Take a deep breath in,” he instructed. You followed his command and as you exhaled, his slick hands made contact with your back. He firmly pressed his hands down your shoulders to your tailbone and repeated the motion. You unconsciously released a sigh, enjoying the pressure and the dichotomy between his warm, flesh hand and his cold, vibranium one. He continued his motion, up and down your back, digging the heels of his hands in a little more with each stroke.

“You’re so tense, baby.” He was right of course. You’d been running on the minimum amount of sleep and thought of nothing but your mission for the past few weeks. Tense didn’t even begin to cover it. 

“We’ll work out all these knots. Don’t you worry.” Bucky shifted his attention to the tension in your shoulder blades. You weren’t sure where he learned this technique but he had mastered it. He would start with his right hand, lightly rubbing and warming up the affected area. Then he would increase the pressure with his metal fingers to break up the knots. You expected it to be painful, but it wasn’t. His touch was magic; it melted all your stress away. 

“If you ever want to retire from the Avengers, you’d make an incredible masseuse,” you commented.

He chuckled, “I don’t know about that. I’m only interested in having one client. These hands are all yours.”

“Mmm…” was all you could muster in return. He completed a few more circuits up and down your back and all your knots had disappeared. Bucky laid a hot, damp towel over your back and pressed down a few times.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pulled up the sheet to expose your right leg. He applied more oil and slid his slick hands from your ankle up to your hamstring. He moved back down and focused his attention on your foot. He dug his thumbs into your arches and you couldn’t help but let out a little squeal.

“That tickle?” he smiled.

“Just a little,” you said, holding back your laughter the best you could. Bucky finished on your foot and moved to your calf. Your legs were sore from near constant activity the past few weeks and his magic fingers carefully soothed all your soreness. He continued up your leg to massage your hamstring and repeated the process on your left leg. When he finished, he removed the towel from your back and lifted the sheet up towards your shoulders.

“Flip over for me.”

You followed his direction and he tucked the sheet under your arms, covering your chest. He placed a pillow under your knees and moved back down to your feet, focusing his attention on your quads. You should have realized your arousal sooner. But it wasn’t until Bucky ran his vibranium hand up your leg, stopping just short of your box that you realized you were getting wet. He continued the motion, massaging your quads and gently caressing your inner thighs. You kept waiting for him to progress, to touch you where you so badly wanted to be touched. But he didn’t. You considered grabbing his hand and directing it to your folds, but before you could make a move he shifted his position and was standing near your torso. He took your right arm in his hands and started massaging your forearm and then your bicep. He took your hand and massaged your palm and fingers with his vibranium hand. He moved to the other side of the table and did the same with your left arm. 

When he finished, he carefully placed your arm down at your side and stood at your head. He took your messy bun in his hands and said, “Can I take this out?” You nodded at him and he carefully pulled out your scrunchie, careful not to pull any of your hair. He immersed his fingertips in your hair, lightly scratching your scalp in a circular motion. It felt amazing and you let out a sigh without realizing. He moved his fingers down to the base of your skull and rubbed to alleviate some of the tension.  

Then he moved his skilled fingers to your neck, rubbing small circles down to your shoulders. He ran his hands under your shoulder blades and slowly clawed them out from underneath you. Then his big hands ran down your collarbone toward your chest. He massaged your pecs and slowly moved toward your breasts. You could tell your nipples were getting hard in anticipation and all you wanted was to feel relief. His hands circled your breasts and just when you thought he was going to give in, he pulled away. You let out a deep exhale, wondering how much longer he was going to tease you like this.

He had to know the effect he was having on you. It had to have been intentional. Was he going to make you beg? Did he want you to ask for him? He moved back down toward your feet and pulled the sheet up around your hip. He once again worked his way up your leg, carefully massaging your upper thigh. You almost lost it when his vibranium fingers brushed against your labia. You let out a sharp exhale and said, “Bucky…”

“Oh you like that?” he purrs. “You’ve been so patient for me.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked. All you could do was nod your head. He ran his fingers up and down your entrance before paying special attention to your clit. You inhaled sharply and laid back on the bed as he continued his handy work. You were in a fog of relaxation and pleasure as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of your entrance. His bionic fingers knew exactly what they were doing and found your G-spot effortlessly, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm. 

But before you could finish, he withdrew his hand and replaced it with his mouth. He devoured your cunt, lapping up your moisture and regularly swirling his tongue around your clit. By now, your left arm was hooked behind your head and your back was arching, unable to handle any further sensation.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, baby,” he whispered, and you immediately unfolded on the table. An unconscious moan left your lips and Bucky re-inserted his fingers into you while continuing to massage your clit with his tongue.

“Oh Buck,” you sighed, coming down from your natural high. Bucky finished up his task and greedily licked his lips, savoring every last drop he could. He collected a damp towel and carefully cleaned you up, treating you like the VIP you were. Once he tossed the used towel aside, you waved him toward you. When he reached your head, you sat up and outstretched an arm toward his face. 

You placed a hand on his jaw and said, “That was incredible. Thank you.” You pulled him close and shared your gratitude with your lips. 

He merely gave you a smile back and said, “Oh it's not over yet.” You cocked your head at him, awaiting further explanation, when he said, “I’m running us a bubble bath.”

[gliphyartfan]

You can ignore this.

What about a reader that got Stockholm Syndrome and feels that they don't deserve the affection they get from the chain so they show love towards the chain by waking before most of the chain early morning and making meals for the chain and fixing clothes they find damaged. Basically reader showing affection to the chain by doing domestic things for them.

Hmmmmmm….i can’t say I’ll do well…

Well...I can say this isn’t @yanderelinkeduniverse’s (y/n) (one of my many eternal muses) so you can choose whoever you want to be the star of this one.

Hopefully I did your request justice!

But anyway: here you go my friend!

.

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The early morning air was cool and damp as (Y/N) carefully stirred from their bedroll, the familiar rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds filling the quiet camp.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, a soft gray hue filtering through the trees.

It was their favorite time of day, a time when everything felt calm, peaceful, and they could focus on showing their affection to the Chain in the only way they felt they could.

Quietly, (Y/N) slipped past the others. This time, it was Twilight and Time who were keeping watch on opposite sides of the camp.

Both acknowledged them with a brief glance, nodding silently as (Y/N) smiled in return.

(Y/N) didn’t notice the way their gazes lingered after they passed, how Twilight’s brow furrowed slightly in concern, or how Time’s lips tightened, his eyes narrowing at their every movement.

They reached the small pile of supplies they’d set aside for breakfast.

It was comforting to have a task, something they could do for the group. But as (Y/N) began preparing the meal, the familiar pang of guilt surfaced. Cooking was Wild’s passion, not theirs.

As they started to chop the vegetables, that guilt gnawed at them again.

‘This is something that brings him joy,’ (Y/N) thought, ‘I’m taking it from him.’ But Wild had always been so kind about it. He’d smile and tell them it was fine, that he didn’t mind.

Yet every time (Y/N) asked for permission to cook, and every time Wild gave it, the knot of guilt in their chest grew tighter.

‘He allows it’, (Y/N) tried to rationalize, stirring the pot with a slow, careful motion. ‘I’m not taking anything from him if he says it’s okay.’ And they needed to help in some way, to contribute. It was the least they could do for the Chain, who did so much for them.

But, as they worked, they failed to notice the subtle shifts around them.

Time’s watchful gaze had turned more focused, tracking every move (Y/N) made as though expecting them to falter.

Twilight’s sharp eyes followed their form, and when he shifted to check on the rest of the camp, his glance lingered a little longer than usual. Neither said anything, but there was something shared between them, an unspoken concern as they watched (Y/N) work.

The quiet was broken when Time approached them, his steps soft but deliberate. “Up early again?” His voice, as always, was gentle. His eyes, soft and affectionate.

(Y/N) looked up, offering him a small, sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Time’s hand came to rest on their shoulder, his touch warm but firm. “You never do. You’re always so careful.” His words were meant as praise, but something in his tone made (Y/N) feel like it wasn’t quite a compliment.

Still, they took it in stride, smiling again as they continued to stir the pot.

“I’m almost done,” they said, hoping to shift the conversation. “Figured I’d finish up before everyone else wakes.”

Time’s hand didn’t leave their shoulder. His grip remained, not forceful, but strong. “You don’t have to do so much for us, you know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a strange mix of affection and something deeper.

There was a shadow of concern in his gaze, though (Y/N) didn’t notice it before it was hidden away swiftly. “We’d still care for you, even if you didn’t.”

(Y/N) smiled up at him, feeling their cheeks warm at his words. “I just… I want to help,” they said, brushing off the unease that briefly surfaced. Time smiled back, his eyes softening.

By the time breakfast was ready, the rest of the Chain began to stir.

Wild was the first to reach the fire, his hair still wild from sleep, and his eyes soft with that familiar warmth he always had when looking at (Y/N).

“Thanks for breakfast,” Wild said, his voice rough from sleep but laced with gratitude. “You didn’t have to do it, though. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” (Y/N) replied quickly, that familiar knot of guilt rising again. “I just… I wanted to help.”

Wild gave them a soft, almost sad smile as he reached out to gently ruffle their hair. “You always do. But don’t feel like you have to take my job, okay?” His voice was kind, but there was an undertone to it, a subtle hint that he was worried about something more than just the cooking.

(Y/N) laughed it off, feeling the guilt twist a little deeper.

‘He’s fine with it. He said so.’ But they couldn’t help the nagging voice at the back of their mind, reminding them that they were taking something precious from him. Something that he loved.

And yet… Wild never complained. None of them did.

As the rest of the group gathered for breakfast, (Y/N) found themselves sitting a little to the side, quietly watching the others eat. They didn’t notice the way the Chain’s eyes flicked back toward them, each of them sharing brief, worried looks when they thought (Y/N) wasn’t looking.

Legend’s sharp gaze lingered a little too long, narrowing slightly, as if calculating something.

Twilight’s lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing in thought as he ate in silence.

(y/n) merely yawned, wondering if they shouldn’t have stood up the night before working in repairing Wild’s cloak. (It hadn’t been a cloak then, more like shreds of cloth.)

They didn’t notice, though, too focused on making sure everything had gone smoothly with breakfast, and too used to the constant presence of their protectors to see anything strange about it.

When the meal was finished, (Y/N) gathered Warriors’ tunic, noticing the small tear that had appeared near the hem.

They set about mending it, their hands moving with practiced ease. It was a small, simple task, but one they took comfort in. It felt good to help in any way they could.

But as they worked, they didn’t notice the way Warriors’ eyes followed them, a look of soft concern on his usually confident expression.

He didn’t say anything, just watched, his fingers twitching slightly as if he wanted to take the tunic from them, perhaps even the needle.

But he didn’t. Instead, he exchanged a glance with Hyrule, whose gaze flickered between (Y/N) and the fire.

“Are you alright?” Hyrule asked after a moment, his voice quiet and gentle. He sat down beside (Y/N), close but not too close, his body angled protectively as if ready to shield them from something.

(Y/N) blinked, surprised by the question. “I’m fine,” they answered quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “Just fixing up some clothes. No big deal.”

Hyrule’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded, accepting their words even though his gaze remained fixed on them, watching carefully, as though searching for any sign of strain or exhaustion.

The Chain’s affection surrounded them constantly, soft gazes, gentle touches, and quiet reassurances, but behind it all, there was a deeper worry that (Y/N) never noticed.

They didn’t see the way Time’s brow furrowed when they stayed up late mending clothes or the way Wild watched them a little too closely when they cooked.

They didn’t notice how Twilight hovered nearby, ready to step in at a moment’s notice, or how Legend’s gaze sharpened whenever they worked too hard.

To (Y/N), this was just love. Pure, simple love.

They had long stopped questioning the oddness of the Chain’s protectiveness.

(They didn’t see the possessiveness in their eyes or the way their concern often bordered on something more obsessive.)

They were safe. They were loved. And even if they didn’t feel worthy of all the attention, all the care the Chain gave them, they couldn’t deny the warmth it brought.

(And if there was more to it than that, (Y/N) remained blissfully unaware.)

[biibini]

modern!mizu headcannons

a/n: my brain has been nothing but her so it’s ab time i write ab her. i’ve read a bunch of modern!mizu headcannons ab her but i need more !! it becomes a drabble at the end but my girl deserves peace and happiness pls

i’ve read a lot of hc w her in uni so i’ll prob stick to the similar things ive read + more

modern!mizu would def be in university studying mechanical engineering

ik this is specific but pls hear me out it fits bc shes a smartie & her adopted dad (master eiji) was a very technical person when she was growing up

she’s also in uni due to an engineering scholarship

modern!mizu is usually at the gym if it wasn’t for classes and fixing her bike

yes she has a motorcycle. i stand by this hc and many others who share similar ideas.

prob a kawasaki ninja but decked out w her own alternations

modern!mizu is a gym rat but is too stubborn to admit it, esp after taigen pointed it out once

likes to go in the early morning for the peace and quiet

she typically goes in for cardio and weights to keep her healthy and in shape but has dabbled in calisthenics before

taigen used to fence w her before he got into other sports such as basketball

(random thought but he just looks like he would play basketball player)

modern!mizu is very smart… but has a slight huge problem with procrastination

akemi has tried many studying techniques with mizu but it ends up her procrastinating and finishing alone

she prefers studying alone in the library or at her desk, until you came along

(ill elaborate on mizu & reader another time)

modern!mizu cannot cook for shit i’m sorry

she can kinda chef it up but it’s taken her a while she nearly burnt the kitchen and has repeatedly turned on the fire alarm and now ringo has ptsd

usually ringo will cook something or help her cook

speaking of ringo

her and ringo are roommates in off-campus housing 2 bed 2 bath

at first, dad eiji was a bit hesitant since he was helping mizu move in but warmed up to ringo once he cooked them dinner (his mom’s soba recipe)

mizu swears she saw a tear roll down her dad’s cheek that day

modern!mizu usually dresses more casually and comfy but still likes her dark blues

not to self indulge but she would like the baggy acubi look that she can move in

(i know this is so inaccurate of others’ headcannons but pls the baggy button up + slingbag combo would go crazy)

ik she got a uniqlo drawstring sling bag

or just any sporty crossbody sling bag

hear me out pls

it’s easier to get on and balance on her motorcycle with comfy clothes and a secure bag

on mizu’s and ringo’s move-in “anniversary” (as ringo like to call it), he got her a lil keychain for her bag with a jingle on it as a joke to her initial move-in gift to him: a bell for being so silent

modern!mizu usually keeps to herself and her friends

after her ex bf m*k*o (yes im censoring his name he doesnt deserve to be typed out) , she’s very cautious of who to trust

thankfully, ringo, akemi, and taigan (as much of an ass as he is) has taught her to open up and be okay with who she is

but there are days when she prefers to be alone and sticking to her own business in peace and quiet

headphones on locked in 🎧

modern!mizu likes to wind down before bed with some chamomile or lavender tea

her temper used to control her feelings, especially when she was much younger

having a small routine at night keeps her calm & well rested

eiji initially started this routine after their long days of welding in the backyard

she can’t cook but give her a teapot and tea leaves, she will make it right

(ok im done imagining her life lets get to the good stuff)

modern!mizu loves little touches

whether it’s holding u by ur hand or shoulder or waist, her hand will always be there

her main love language is physical touch

the more comfortable she gets with u, the longer she’ll leave her hand on u

whenever u and her are out at a party or gathering, u implemented the secret squeeze if either one of u wants to get out

u haven’t used it before but mizu did a few times

it was when she just wanted to be closer to u in the comfort of her own bed

modern!mizu enjoys shopping w u

she kind of knows her style: comfy and light

but she never explored how to pair clothes together until u showed her some basic pairing

when she first met akemi, she was uncomfortable with more feminine styles and shopping for going-out tops with her

it mainly stems from just not knowing a lot of trends and seeing a wide range of items

she got accustomed the items but seeing u have fun trying new tops

totally not sneaking into the changing room and stealing a few kisses many kisses

modern!mizu also enjoys holding ur things for u

she won’t say it explicitly but she is silently expressive ab it

u need someone to hold ur drink while u fix ur shoes? she got it. need someone to hold ur bag while u go to the bathroom? she got it.

need someone to get a glass of water even though ur all comfy in bed? she will get it (for a price aka some extra cuddles & kisses)

she’s also the type of put ur hand behind ur back when ur in a crowd

ok thats all for now but hope u enjoyed ♡

[nori-writes]

Sweet Country Lovin’

Cole Cassidy x Reader

W/C: 750+

A/N: Oh? Another one? This soon? Does this mean I’m fully coming back? Idk either. Sorry :’) But hopefully it’s a yes. It’s currently 1:20 AM while I type this and I need to be up at 5:50 AM so, I guess I’d better hurry up. I also just realized how many requests I have….. I don’t know what I’m doing here writing my own shit…. I should be doing requests- 😭

Also, I haven’t proof read this. Oops.

The sun rose, the same as every morning. There was nothing particularly special about today except the fact that both you and Cole had the day off. It wasn’t a common occurrence but a nice one when the time came.

These days were never spent doing much except staying around the house. A load or two of laundry would’ve been the most to get done on those days, not that it was a bad thing.

Days where you were both off consisted of you two lying around the house together, whether you two were doing the same thing or separate things you still typically sat in each other's company. Anything but work.

Thank god that today was one of these said days, it was much deserved and needed, missions felt like they had been running longer recently with less rest time in between, leaving you and Cole almost no time together except the typical meals that the two of you tended to share.

As your eyes opened slowly as you sat up, your vision blurry and you rubbed the sleep away you went to turn to meet your boyfriend who usually occupied the spot next to you to find that he had already made his way out of bed. Unusual for him.

You pulled the covers off of your body and got yourself out of bed fixing your hair with the brush that sat on your nightstand before opening your bedroom door. When you opened the door you were hit with the smell of pancakes, sausage and maple syrup.

Following the smell you found yourself in the kitchen where Cole looked to be setting a tray with the food he had made, god how lucky you were. It was obvious that he was going to bring you breakfast in bed but alas, you were awake now. So instead you slipped behind him, laying your head into his back, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Well, mornin’ sweet pea,” he spoke in a soft voice, his body melting into your touch as he still put food onto the tray. There was a small moment of silence before he spoke again, “I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed but it looks like you’re not sleepin’ anymore.”

You nodded and you spoke for the first time this morning, your voice coming out groggy, “Well, why are you still putting food onto the tray then?” You questioned curiously.

The cowboy turned his body all the way around so now he was actually facing you, he stopped for a minute to take in your morning state. It was something Cole would tell you he loved about you. How it was you, completely unfiltered. He loved the way your hair wasn’t perfect and how his shirt was a little too big on you, the way you were extra clingy in the mornings, the way that he could just stare at you for hours in the morning and be completely content. Though, you’d usually brush it off everytime he said it, telling him he was going crazy.

Finally he spoke, “Well, I was thinkin’ we can both get cozy back in bed with some breakfast and turn on a movie for a lazy mornin’. How’s that sound?”

You nodded, that sounded amazing right now, “Please.”

“Well that’s all the answer I needed darlin’. Why don’t you get back into bed and pick out a movie for the two of us to watch? I’ll be back there in just a minute, alright?”

“Will do.”

You gave a small smile before Cole leaned down to leave a kiss on your lips, “Now don’t go fallin’ asleep on me while I’m out here doin’ this.”

You returned the kiss, the taste of the coffee and a cigar he had this morning stained onto his lips, “I would never.”

Some minutes passed and you had made your way back to the shared bedroom while you picked out a movie Cole finished up getting breakfast together for the two of you.

Not so soon after your lover made his way back to the bedroom with a tray of food for the two of you to share, unfortunately, you had fallen back asleep.

All the cowboy could do was set the tray of food back in the kitchen before coming back into the bedroom, slipping into his side of the bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him, pressing a kiss onto the top of your head.

Sometimes things didn’t always go as planned but that doesn’t mean the outcome isn’t always as good, and this was one of those things. Perfect in its own way.

As always if you enjoyed I’ve got the good ol’ dandy Masterlist is here.

[rinneroraito]

it could be the alcohoL

Maybe I deserve a break. Maybe, just maybe, I need to loosen up, because things had gone painfully awry when we started putting up cameras and wiretaps in Light Yagami’s room only for them to be removed shortly.

I was so sure we’d at least get something out of it, just something to move the investigation along. First it was the FBI agents, and now this. We were at a dead end again and it just stressed me out. Every waking moment that Kira was out there sowed fear deeper into the hearts of concerned citizens, and also a cult following of people who thought he was a god.

Staring up at the off-white ceiling, mulling over the events that transpired throughout the whole investigation, I sighed. It was all that consumed me for a while, every bit of energy I had had been directed towards this case. The mattress felt comforting, but I needed something else to take the edge off just a little bit, so I got up and grabbed the telephone by the bedside table, dialing Room Service.

“Hi, do you happen to have alcohol?”

—-

L was typing away at his computer when I shuffled into his room with a can of beer. The reason why I came here is lost to me now, only remembering that I wanted to see him. I’ve already finished 3 cans and was obviously inebriated at this moment and I figured if I had a drink then I might as well just enjoy myself. An aspirin, loads of cold water, a carbonated drink and some hot broth in the morning would fix me up.

The screens glowed in his dark office, and I could see his back as he crouched on his seat, the keyboard clicking as he continued to type. His head slightly bobs up and down, left and right as he looked at his screens. I drag my feet to him.

I stood there right behind L, looking at the screens first, then down at him, or at least down at the back of his head and the nape of his neck covered sparsely by his dark hair.

“Miss Uehara, I can smell the alcohol from here,” L says, not looking up at me.

“I’m off duty at the moment, aren’t I? Don’t worry, I’ll be alright in the morning, I have a regimen for this.” I replied, putting an arm on the back of the chair he was sitting on and leaning towards the back of his head. Reaching the other hand holding the beer out to him, I asked. 

“You want some?”

“No thank you, I’d like to keep a clear head while working.”

“I figured. You’re such a workaholic, Detective. Such a workaholic.”

“Your speech isn’t slurring yet so I assume you’re just buzzed. Were you pressured by the events as of late? I didn’t expect you to be the type to drink alcohol, actually.”

“Oh, you didn’t, did you? Well, it has been stressful, but I can manage. This helps.” I brought the can to my mouth and took a long swig from it, exhaling after. “And I guess, in some way, you’re helping me, too.”

L was very much aware of the effects of alcohol and how it lowers down a person’s inhibitions significantly. The way I was approaching him right now was more daring than usual and he knew it. I drank down what was left of the drink in the can. “Would you please elaborate on that, Miss Uehara? Besides helping out with the Kira case and that small encouragement I gave you some time ago, I don’t suppose I’ve done anything of significant help towards you.”

A small chuckle escaped me as I leaned closer towards him, resting my forehead on the back of his head. I felt him shift slightly as I made contact with him, but I could still hear the keyboard clicking so he didn’t seem too distracted at all by what I did.

“Because you’re an inspiration to me and well, I like that you’re here, World’s Greatest Detective. It’s like, a biiiig deal to me that I get to work with you, you know?” I ramble.

“You speak rather highly of me, Miss Uehara, I’m touched, thank you.” He speaks in his usual monotone voice and in my inebriation and the fact that I couldn't see his face, it was hard for me to  tell if he was actually flattered or was just responding out of courtesy.

“Also, I think I actually like you, L...”

The keyboard’s clacking stopped as the words escaped my mouth. I dropped the usual honorific I called him by, likely influenced by the alcohol. He was still, and I continued to ramble on in my intoxication.

“I like the way you stare at things like you’re trying to dissect them before you, your piercing glare so intense that I feel like if you had lasers in your eyes I’d be bisected right in front of you. I like the way you daintily hold things with your thumb and forefinger, and it makes me wonder just how strong your digits are.”

He shifted slightly forwards, and I brought the arm that I had resting on the back of his chair around to rest on his shoulder.

“I like the way you eat your sweets, it’s nice to see you enjoy them. I like how I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or you’re just being blunt at times, and it sends the rest of the Task Force in a state of confusion whenever you say something.” I chuckled, pressing my cheek on the top of his head.

“I like your face, the seemingly permanent shadows under your eyes, your sharp jawlines and how long your neck is, your lanky frame… I like how you’re so smart and you know that you’re the smartest guy in the room but you give everyone the benefit of the doubt because of the way you look.”

“Miss Uehara…”

“I don’t know, Detective, maybe I do like you or maybe it’s the alcohol.” Hair strands fell off my shoulders, caressing the nape of his neck as I lowered my face on the back of his head, his hair  brushing against my cheeks. “Your hair smells nice.” I say, feeling my breath bounce off of the nape of his neck and I felt him bend forward away from me just a little.

“While I am flattered by your words, Miss Uehara, I have my reservations over accepting them due to your current state. Were the things you just said truthful and you’ve been harboring a fondness for me for a while or were they just a product of the mock confidence induced by alcohol?”

My eyelids fluttered as I listened to him and I tilted my head so my cheek was pressed into the back of his head again.

“If I remember all of this in the morning and start acting awkward around you, then you’ll know..”

“Would you kindly stand up so I can move away, please? I’ll have Watari assist you back to your room.” Exhaling slowly I did as he requested and leaned away from him. “Can I sleep on the couch over there? I don’t..” I swayed slightly on my feet.

He turns around and looks up at me, his wide eyes illuminated by the electric lighting of the monitors before us. I could swear there was a gentleness in it, but it could be the alcohol. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I just want to know that there’s someone else within the 4 walls of the room I’m in.”

“Very well. I’ll have a blanket brought up here for you.” He gets out of his seat and walks around his chair to my side.

“Thanks, Detective.” I stepped back so I could walk to where the couch was when the rest of the alcohol I just drank suddenly hit me and I stumbled backwards. L, who had been perceptive of the entire situation, was able to grab me by my shoulders before I could lose my balance even more.

“Easy. It seems like the rest of the alcohol you drank is starting to run its course, please hold on to me and I’ll walk you to the couch.”

His grip on my shoulders was firm and secure. I leaned into him and he brought one of his arms around my back as he walked me to the couch by the other end of the room where I promptly dropped myself onto. The couch felt more comfortable than my hotel room’s bed for some reason.

My voice comes out a little ragged as I pull my feet up onto the couch.

“Hey, Detective..?” 

“Yes, Miss Uehara?”

“I still have the lollipop stick from that day we met.”

If he ever replied, I couldn’t hear it anymore as my eyes swam and sleep took over me.

[moonlightspencie]

lost in it

Description: The aftermath of falling down a rabbit hole!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluffies

Word Count: 1.9k

spotify playlist link!

A/N: gender neutral reader! (no use of pronouns or ‘y/n’)

SPENCER POV

‘Love,

What’s wrong with me? I think something terribly wrong has happened to my brain, and I don’t know how to fix it. I think you might be the only person who could begin to understand how to, but for obvious reasons, I can’t ask you to do that. I thought time would change things and that I’d start feeling normal again, but every morning I wake up and it feels like my only excuse for getting out of bed is that if I don’t, you’re all I’d dream about.

I still don’t understand how something so perfect could have gone so terribly wrong. Maybe there was too much fire, and because didn’t get a handle on it, we let it burn down everything instead of letting it keep us warm. I don’t know. I hate not knowing. I’m supposed to understand things. But then, you’ve always been an enigma of sorts. Like a beautiful puzzle that I loved to try and piece together, even though I could never get it quite right.

Though, while you still occupy my mind endlessly, I can at least feel like I can breathe again. I found someone new, and she’s great. Not you, but still great. She tells me I look healthier now than when we first met, and she takes the credit for it. I don’t think I believe that she’s the culprit, but I’ll let her believe it. It makes me laugh, at least, and she does, too. I like when she laughs. She reminds me a little bit of you when she does. It’s curious, I think, that she can make me so happy on her own, but that I still cling to every time she acts like you. I feel guilty about it most days. She probably doesn’t deserve it.

But, I can’t help that I still think of you and try to find you in everything. You’re like a ghost haunting me. I’ve always been a skeptic of the supernatural, but you seem to have made me a believer. I wonder if you ever feel the same about me. That somehow you’re searching for that same rainbow of colors I saw when we were together, or that mayb’

“Spencer?”

I dropped my pen, my hand coming down to rest on the piece of paper on my desk as if she could see what I was writing from her vantage point. I looked up at the girl on my couch as she had just woken from a nap. She stared back a me curiously.

“Everything okay?” she inquired.

I nodded quickly. “Fine. Why?”

“You just looked really… In your head.”

“I usually am,” I offered with a tight-lipped smile.

She snorted a laugh, nodding along as she sat up fully. She rested her head on her arms as she looked over the back of the couch at me.

“Well, we have dinner reservations soon. You could probably use a shower.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I nodded, standing from my desk.

She followed suit, standing and disappearing into my bedroom to get ready. I looked down at the letter on my desk, picking it up and observing my own writing for a few moments. My handwriting was a little messy. I let out a deep sigh, crumpling the letter into a ball and tossing it into the fireplace.

I thought back frequently on how it all ended.

We were sitting on my couch one afternoon. I still remember light in my eyes from the afternoon sun. At my love’s suggestion, we kept the curtains open all day, and the windows open every time the weather allowed it. It was nice. The fresh air coming in always made everything feel good somehow. The smell of the wind coming in was always welcomed. Especially on days like that one, in mid-spring as temperatures rose and the air was crisp and the sun always seemed to peak through the clouds. I always felt that way when we were together. It’s how I knew something was wrong that morning.

Our biggest argument started not long after breakfast. I didn’t want to talk about it when tensions started rising, but I should have known that that was a big part of the problem. I never wanted to talk about the hard things. Why would I? Things felt so good when we were together. Why bring up anything negative when we could bask in the sunshine together? It seemed silly.

Though, to be fair, everyone is a fool in love. I thought I’d be immune to it. I wasn’t usually stupid. But those eyes looking at me, and those hands touching me… It was no surprise I couldn’t think straight. I could have been the dullest man on earth, and I wouldn’t have cared.

So, we sat on my couch. Basking in the afterglow of an argument. Our fire had grown out of control, and there I was without any water. Foolish.

I turned when I heard a sigh next to me, and part of my heart broke when I saw tears glistening in that afternoon sunlight. But I didn’t offer comfort. I didn’t even find myself speaking for once in my life. Foolish.

I didn’t move from the couch until it got dark. I didn’t get up when I heard the rustling of clothes getting tossed into a bag. I didn’t even turn around when I heard footsteps going towards the door. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. Foolish.

I guess part of me thought we just needed a little bit of space. I was certain we’d find our way back together within a week. Surely, we couldn’t stay apart for long. That was a ridiculous notion. Everyone knew we would end up growing old together. One fight couldn’t possibly be the reason for our downfall. But it wasn’t one fight that did it.

It was every time I refused to talk. It was every time one of us was too stubborn to back down from an argument. It was everything that led up to that fight that did us in for good.

The last time we spoke was to make sure I wasn’t holding onto anything in the apartment that wasn’t mine. I wished I could have. Pretending I wasn’t alone was easier when the apartment was still full of memories that weren’t just mine.

But weeks of not talking after that turned into months. The only updates I got came from mutual friends, and they didn’t exactly want to talk to me about my ex every time we got together. I can’t say that I would have minded it, though. I wished endlessly I could still remember the smell on my pillow that disappeared long ago, but my memory faded.

And, eventually, someone else’s head laid there instead.

READER POV

I thought back frequently on how it all started.

I didn’t usually agree to blind dates. I thought they were bizarre. Why agree to meet a perfect stranger when I was more than content on my own? Sometimes part of me wishes I’d never agreed in the first place. But, then, I don’t know who I’d be now if I hadn’t met Spencer. He had shifted the entire world on its axis with nothing but a shy smile and shaggy hair falling in his face as he greeted me the first time.

He expressed quickly that also wasn’t usually one for blind dates, but that a coworker of his practically made him go for it. At the time I thought it sounded pushy, but shortly after meeting Derek it all started to make sense.

“So we finally meet,” he said, flashing me a million dollar smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I mentioned with a smile as I reached to shake his hand.

He took my hand, chuckling slightly as he gave Spencer a glance and a look I couldn’t quite decipher.

“I’m sure I’ve heard just as much about you. I’ve never seen pretty boy so infatuated.”

Spencer blushed hard. I merely reached for his hand, interlocking our fingers with a smile.

Though, as much as Derek made sense, a lot of other things didn’t. Our relationship didn’t quite seem like a good fit, for example. I didn’t think we’d last. He was seemingly so mild-mannered at first, but together it was like a whirlwind that would sweep us off our feet. I couldn’t envision it going well for more than a week, but he convinced me easily with that same sweet smile. He was always easy to give into.

“I just don’t know—”

“Please,” he said, cutting me off.

I looked into those big, pretty eyes of his. How could I deny him?

“Are you sure about this?”

He nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That was the spark, and soon we were tumbling down into something magical at breakneck speeds. Wondrous and stupid and beautiful and thrilling and irresponsible. Expiration dates be damned.

The touch of his hand alone could give me a buzz that no other substance could manage, and I know that my influence was the same on him. It showed every time he looked at me as if I hung the stars while my fingertips traced patterns against his chest. Every time he gave me a soft smile after a particularly passionate kiss when he got home from a case. Every time I brushed the hair out of his face as he rested his head against my chest.

We were utterly in love and too wrapped up in each other to see that it was doomed from the start.

‘Spencer,

It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry to do this to you out of the blue, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Mostly about you. It’s ridiculous, really.

I know you found someone else, and I’m happy for you. Really. I’ve got to admit, though, that it sucks to see you doing so well with another girl. I’ve worked through a lot of those feelings, but some of them still linger. I hate thinking about anyone else having you. Lucky for me, Penelope has stuck around after the breakup, and she’s a wonderful listener. Gosh, I say that like you don’t already know. Anyway, I don’t want to cause problems, so if you don’t reply to this I wont take any offense. I know you have different priorities now. It sucks things had to end how they did. And that’s putting it really lightly.

I still dream about you sometimes. I thought it would end at some point, but it just isn’t right now. It’s weird. I’ve never had someone effect me like this before, and I’m not sure what to do about it. It feels like phantom limb syndrome. Part of me is missing, and I know it’s gone, but it still feels like it’s there somehow. I don’t know. I guess I’m just reaching out because’

I stopped typing at that. Because…?

Because what? Why am I doing this? Really?

I swallowed, looking at all I’d written so far. It was all truthful, that’s for certain. But why send it to him? What would that accomplish?

I hovered my thumb over the button for a moment, then pressed down. I didn’t let up until the whole text was erased. I looked at the empty text box, and the last messages that were sent months ago. Plans for when I was going to retrieve my things from his apartment.

I closed out of the app a moment later, tossing the device on my coffee table. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off to a world where he was still around.

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 3

July 15th, 1988

*Y/N’s POV*

Katherine and I spent the day together exploring London. She suggested we do some shopping before having lunch. Of course the moment she pulled me into a bridal boutique I knew she had an ulterior motive.

“This would look stunning on you!” Katherine complimented as she pointed out the gown on display.

“Mama Kay, that’s a wedding dress.”

“You should try it on.” She cheered. “It’ll be fun!”

“It’s beautiful but I think I’m going to pass on that.” I laughed off her comment.

“Michael was looking for you last night. He did not buy the jet lagged excuse.”

“Well, I’ll see him tonight.” I said as I guided her towards the exit.

“He fired Tatiana.” She said nonchalantly.

“What?”

“She’s a sweet girl but her crush on Michael was getting out of hand. My poor boy was so embarrassed. He had no idea she would do that.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think seeing his best friend would have helped.”

“Oh you’re making me feel bad on purpose!”

“You’re always the first person he runs to when something goes wrong. Yesterday, however, was the first time you weren’t there. It did a real number on him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“My boy is experiencing the beginning stages of losing the woman he loves. He is in no way shape or form fine.”

“He doesn’t love me in that way and he’s not losing me. I just needed a break to be alone and avoid any further damage to our friendship. I didn’t mean for my actions to come off as selfish. I’m sorry.”

“Here we go again with all the friendship hoopla.” Katherine rolled her eyes shaking her head. “You are not just friends—”

“We almost kissed. On opening night.” I blurted out. “He ran away from me and hid from everyone.”

“Oh, I see.”

“That’s why I said I think we were wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.” She said sternly ignoring my confession. I couldn’t help but laugh at her stubbornness.

“Y/N! There you are!” Michael shouted standing from his make-up chair. “Finally!”

“Your mom and I had a girls day.” I smiled hugging him. He kindly asked for the room and his entourage dispersed.

“How is the jet lag?” He asked suspiciously.

“I’m fine. I just need some rest.”

“You didn’t even stay for our after show ritual.”

“Michael—”

“It’s tradition!” He spoke over me. “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t feel well.” It was partly true. He continued to study my demeanor.

“Tatiana.” He stated. “I didn’t— she wasn’t supposed to do that. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

“I’m really sorry that happened. You didn’t deserve it.”

“You know... every love song I write is about you.” He muttered.

“What?” I stared at him but he didn’t repeat himself. He closed the gap between us pulling me into his chest.

Each time the wind blows

I hear your voice so

I call your name

Whispers at morning

Our love is dawning

Heaven's glad you came

You know how I feel

This thing can't go wrong

I'm so proud to say I love you

Your love's got me high

I long to get by

This time is forever

Love is the answer

Michael softly sung into my ear as he swayed us back and forth. He held me for a moment longer before leaving a lingering kiss on my temple.

“Michael?” I spoke gently.

“I have to finish getting ready. Can you help with my hair? You’re the only one that does it the way I like.” He smiled pulling me across the room to his vanity.

I watched him as he excitedly gathered all the tools and products I would need. Every time I think we’re on the same page he throws a curveball. It makes it even worse that he just changes the subject as if nothing happened. As I began styling Michael’s hair my mind drifted off to how he makes me feel. When he holds me like that it’s impossible to hide my emotions. Michael is my home. When he holds me I feel complete. He’s the only person I truly feel safe with.

“I love hearing you sing.” I said as I fixed his hair.

“Thank you.”

“I love that song. It’s really beautiful.”

“It’s one of my favorites. It’s like it was in my head my whole life and all I needed to do was write it down.” he met my gaze through the mirror. “It’s inspiring being in love.”

“In love?” I broke our eye contact and tried to focus on his hair. “That’s sweet.”

“Are you in love?”

“Michael—”

“Because I think you are.” He turned to me placing his hands on my hips. “Please tell me that you are.” He stared at me expectantly as he rises from his seat.

Here we are again.

Our chests became connected as I felt his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt leaving a strong tingling feeling along my hips. We were admiring each other’s lips and yearning for what came next.

“I am.” I finally spoke.

“Y/N, I—” there was a loud obnoxious knock on the door as it swung open.

“Oh—oh— I—I’m so sorry” Greg stood there with an apologetic look on his face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” Michael said. “What is it?”

“Princess Diana is on her way. They want us all in place for her arrival.”

Michael looked at me and I gave him a nod. He looked nervous as his lips met my cheek and he hugged me tightly.

“We will talk later.” He stated hopefully as he moved towards the door.

“I’m so sorry.” Greg mouthed before closing the door leaving me alone.

“This next song is very special to me. It comes from my heart.” Michael spoke as the lights began to dim. “I’m going to perform it a little differently tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” His beautiful voice filled the stadium.

I just want to lay next to you for a while

You look so beautiful tonight

Your eyes are so lovely

Your mouth is so sweet

A lot of people misunderstand me

That's because they don't know me at all

I just want to touch you

And hold you

I need you, God I need you

I love you so much

Michael’s intimate intro to ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’ caused chills to travel down my spine. The longer I kept my eyes on him the more I thought about our moment in his dressing room earlier. There was so much emotion behind it. I just wanted to know what he was thinking. I took a moment to look out into the full stadium. The audience was lit up with thousands of lighters hovering over the sea of fans.

Wow.

We all gathered backstage after the show to celebrate. I didn’t realize how many people would be here or how loud it was going to get. Nonetheless, I was really enjoying myself, I was sitting with the band when everyone suddenly went silent. I followed their stare and saw the man of the hour.

“Dance with me.” Michael held his hand out and I gladly accepted.

“You’re my favorite dance partner.”

My comment went unnoticed as Michael stared off. His grip on me tightened as we danced in silence. He placed my arms further around his neck pulling me closer to him. Two songs went by without a word from him.

“Michael?” I poked his cheek getting his attention. “What’s going on up there?”

“Nothing.” He spat. He never snapped at me. It made me feel awful. His coldness triggered me deeply making me feel insignificant.

“What’s your problem?”

“I asked you to dance with me why do you feel the need to pester me.” I stepped away immediately looking at him as if he was a stranger. “Y/N—” he said softly reaching for my hand.

“You’re being so ugly to me.” I shook my head walking away leaving him standing alone. I shoved the dressing room door open swiftly gathering my belongings.

“Jet lagged again.” I heard Michael’s mocking voice behind me.

“No actually at the moment I’m extremely fed up with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes you!” I pointed at him as my vision became blurry. “Why would you ask me to dance just to speak to me like that? You’ve never treated me like that before.”

“No! I wanted to dance with you because- I just- some of the guys from the crew were talking about you. I couldn’t- I tried to keep my cool but they were saying— I didn’t like it—”

“Wait.” I wiped my eyes. “You asked me to dance so no one else could?”

“I—” he was frozen in place and I felt myself begin to tremble from how angry I was.

“You know what Michael. How about you figure out what you want because I can’t handle this anymore. One minute you’re serenading me asking me if I’m in love and the next you’re acting like this. You keep saying all these things and I have no idea how I’m supposed to take them because you never explain. It feels like you’re toying with me and it isn’t fair. Do you know how terrifying it is to be in love? The thought of losing that person destroys you because he’s one of the most important people in your life. Every time he gives you a shred of hope that he may feel the same he disregards it just as quickly- and it doesn’t even matter because to me- to me he is everything. He’s my everything. This back and forth is- it’s mentally exhausting Michael, but I’m still here.” I frantically caught my breath, Michael’s wide eyes brought me to the realization that I said way too much. He remained silent. I wanted to evaporate. Silence. I just shook my head brushing past him.

Nothing was going to be the same ever again.

July 16th, 1988

A bright golden beam of sunlight streamed through the curtains seeping through my eyelids. I sighed pulling a pillow over my face. It’s too early for this. The events of the last two days begin running through my mind as I closed my eyes. I’m a complete mess. If I could stay in bed all day I would. Michael was giving me so many mixed signals but, after last night, I’m afraid he may never speak to me again. I sat up throwing the pillow across the room with force.

“You weren’t aiming for me right?” My head snapped to the side to see Michael standing in front of the window looking out at the London sky.

“Michael!” I yelled pulling the comforter up to cover my pajamas.

“I brought us breakfast.”

“How did you get in here?”

“French toast! Your favorite..” he sang placing the take out trays on the table.

“How long were you watching me sleep?”

“I got extra syrup and fresh strawberries.” He danced taking a big bite of a strawberry.

“You scared me! Why are you here this early?”

“I knew the only way you’d listen to me is if I showed up unannounced and brought food.” A smile spread across his face. “Come on sit.”

“Give me a minute.” I sprinted to the bathroom and softly shut the door behind me. I brush my teeth and wash my face but my nerves are still through the roof. Michael’s here in my room acting suspiciously normal. I focused on my breathing as I walked out back into the room.

“My mom.” He stated as I took the seat across from him.

“What?”

“She had a spare key. I was just answering your earlier question.”

“Oh, then yes.” I smiled taking a bite.

“Yes?”

“I was aiming for you.” I answered sticking my tongue out.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. I have a comedian for a best friend folks!” He announced to an imaginary crowd.

“What would you like to talk to me about?” I asked laughing.

“I need you to promise me something first.”

“What is that?”

“I need you to let me say everything I need to say to you without interrupting me.”

“Is everything okay?” His tone beginning to make me nervous.

“I’ll explain everything.”

“I promise. No interrupting.” I held my hand up letting him know I took the oath seriously.

“Well, I want to thank you for visiting me. It’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me in a long time. This tour has been incredible, but I have missed you very much. It’s just- everything is better when you’re around.” He slid his hand onto the table slowing inching it towards me. He gave me a small smile and I knew exactly what he wanted, so I placed my hand in his. “I know I’ve been all over the place and I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s such a tough situation. I would never intentionally toy with your feelings. I know that’s why you were avoiding me. I understand why and it’s okay. It was just for a few hours but knowing you didn’t want to see me was the worst feeling in the world.”

“I’ve kept something from you for a few years now because I truly believed it was for the best. It was easier when we were kids. We didn’t have to worry or stress. Once I got to the age where I understood my feelings it became more difficult, but not impossible. I told myself it was better to have you as my best friend than not have you at all. I wanted you in my life. I need you and I hate the idea of my feelings ruining our friendship. Then, my career took this incredible albeit insane turn. All the hard work, struggle and pain of my childhood was finally paying off, but it came at a cost. I’m constantly ridiculed, bullied and betrayed. They all misunderstand me because they don’t know me. I’m just a punchline to them.” He places his hand over his eyes leaning his elbow on the table in attempt to conceal his watery eyes. “I knew I had to protect you from this world. The media attacking you. The paparazzi stalking you. I couldn’t bear leaving you vulnerable to it all. There has always been an excuse. And they all seemed like great excuses. It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized it was fear holding me back. The fear of losing you, but let’s face it you aren’t going anywhere and neither am I. Y/N, there is nothing in this world that is worth keeping my distance from you.” His hand fell from his face and landed over mine.

“Y/N, I could never close my heart to you because it’s yours. It has always been yours.”

“I’m terrified but I think- I hope you want this too. I hope you want me— us.”

“I know what happened opening night hurt you. I know because if I had to watch some schmuck kiss you… or dance with you…” he paused his rant shifting in his seat “I would loose my mind. It would break me.” He squeezed his eyes shut softly shaking his head back and forth. “I could feel your pain. I could feel the ache in your heart. I could feel your tears. It was unbearable. I never want to be the cause of it again. Ever.”

“The reality is if we become more it will change your life in an instant. I pray that you feel I’m worth it as much as I feel you are. I know you are. It won’t be easy, but I vow to do everything in my power to keep any harm from coming to you. I will always protect you.”

“Lovely, in all the ways I’ve pictured my life, you are always in it. You and I are inevitable. We are predestined. It’s in the stars. Everything in me chooses you. You are it. You’re the dream of all dreams. You’re my dream come true. I love you. I love you infinitely.”

Michael’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a deep sigh. He stood up and pulled his chair over to sit beside me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My Michael.

“I um- that was probably too much to throw at you all at once. Goodness it’s hot in here.” He started playing with his hair and I knew he was panicking.

“Can I talk now?” I whispered. He hesitantly nodded.

“Michael, please look at me.” His eyes were closed and he shook his head no. “Michael.”

He didn’t move and I could tell he thought I was going to reject him. My hands landed on his broad shoulders, his eyes still closed as I ever so gently turned him towards me. I tried to focus on my breathing as my hands traveled to the back of his neck. My fingers running through his curls. I took a brief moment to catch my breath before I leaned in.

As our lips met, a strong bolt of electricity ran through my body. I felt his hands tenderly cup my face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against mine with a gentle urgency. In that moment, nothing else mattered - no excuses - no fears.

Surprisingly, the thought of being pressed up against Michael never crossed my mind, but now that it was happening, I didn’t want it to end. Michael’s hands were strong as he affectionately caressed my body. Our lips slightly parted - our breathing heavy - our gazes falling onto one another. Michael didn’t waste time letting his eyes travel. His breath hitched as he lustfully scanned my legs on either side of his hips.

“Oh lovely.” He quickly caught my lips again gripping the back of my thighs. He stood up carrying me with ease as he moved over to the bed.

I felt the plush mattress form to the curves of my body as Michael hovered over me leaving sweet kisses across my collarbone.

“I love you Y/N” he mumbled against my skin with each kiss.

“My entire life...” he stopped and adjusted himself to look into my eyes. “My whole life I’ve been completely in love with you.” The corners of his lips curved up and he buried his face into my neck. “Michael, I love you with my whole heart.”

“Please don’t let this be a dream.” Michael pleaded.

“This is real.” I smiled finding his lips again. “This is happening.”

“Y/N?” He said against my lips.

“Yes Michael?”

“Can I take you on a date? A real date. Just the two of us. Tonight after the show.” He moved to the space next to me as we both shifted laying on our sides to face each other.

“I would love that.”

“I want to kiss you forever.”

“I would love that.” I repeated flirtatiously.

“My girl.” He smiled leaning his forehead against mine. “You’re my girl..”

“Oh I am?” I teased.

“I would like you to be mine. Do you want to be my girl?”

“Hmmm.. let me think.”

Michael began singing and my heart melted further with each lyric.

You know how I feel

I won't stop until

I hear your voice saying

"I do"

Michael watched me intently waiting for my answer. He leaned closer and I smiled kissing him deeply “I do” I said against his lips.

This thing can't go wrong

This feeling's so strong

Well, my life ain't worth living

If I can't be with you

I just can't stop loving you

I just can't stop loving you

And if I stop

Then tell me, just what will I do

I just can't stop loving you

There it is part 3!!!

Ahhhhh! Maybe part 4?

I hope you all enjoyed this rollercoaster lol

Let me know what you think. Also, should I put together a tag list?

[beastofburdenxo]

A Familiar Pain

You start your period in Emmett's bed, and he takes care of you. No smut, just a small mention of blood. First fic of the year!! 774 words. @your-nanas-house

You had woken up to familiar stomach pain and cursed yourself for not being more prepared. To make things worse, you weren’t even in your bed; you had spent the night with Emmett. You raised the covers to see the unwelcome blood all over his sheets. You wanted to cry right then and there. Would Emmett be mad? “Well good morning sweetheart.” he says, rolling over to face you and giving you a kiss. “What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing the look on your face. “I’m sorry Emmett, please don’t be mad...” He raises the cover to see what you are apologizing for. “Oh sweetie, it’s okay. Don’t apologize, I'm not mad. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Let me take care of it.” Emmett gets out of bed, and you hear him running a warm bath for you. “Come on, in the bath you go.” He scoops you up in his arms and takes you to the bathroom. You want to hide in shame as he helps you undress and sits you in the tub. “There you go sweetie,” he coos, “You’ll feel better once you get clean. The nice warm water should help with your pain too. My poor baby.” Your eyes fill with tears at his gentleness. “Don’t cry.” Emmett sits on the edge of the tub and washes your back for you. “I’m an adult, and I know you can’t always predict these things. I figured it would happen sooner or later. Now sit and relax, I'll take your clothes and the sheets and wash them, okay? Don’t worry about a thing I got it.”  

Emmett strips the bed and puts everything in the washing machine while you soak in the tub. He comes back with a pair of his shorts and a shirt, “Just until everything is good and dry.” You smile at his kindness towards the situation. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do all this. I should know better; I've been at this for years.” Emmett chuckles as he holds up a towel and wraps you up in it. “Being mad and throwing a fit doesn’t help a thing. I know it wasn’t on purpose. Besides, it’s what I'm here for; to take care of you and make things easier.” After fixing yourself up you go to the living room while Emmett checks on the laundry. “You look miserable sweetheart.” he tells you as you're sprawled out on the couch, “Anything I can do for my girl?” You look over at him, not wanting to be any more of a bother than you already are. “No.” you reply with hesitation. Of course, Emmett picks up on it. “Don’t give me that, you are in pain. I can see it. What do you need from me?” With a sigh you answer, “Will you come and rub my belly please? Your hands are always so warm, maybe give a little pressure?”  

Without a second thought, Emmett has you in his lap. You both are leaning back on the couch, your back to his chest. He takes his big hands and gently puts them underneath your shirt, right where you need it. Your eyes close at the warmth. His hands are like your own personal heating pads. “Like that, beautiful? Your tummy is so bloated, bless your little heart. I can’t believe you go through this every month. I'd be crying by now.” You lean over and nuzzle his arm. “Yes Emmett, thank you. You are always so good to me.” He slowly starts to rub your poor tummy, giving the slight pressure you asked for. “You deserve it sweetheart; you are so good to me as well. How about I fix the bed up and we take a little nap? I’ll even let you keep my hands.” You give a smile in response as he gently moves you off him. An unknown amount of time passes, as you almost drift off to sleep on the couch. Emmett picks you back up, “Come on, back to bed for you. We’ll take a little nap, and when we wake, I'll fix us something to eat. You’re choice.”  

Emmett gently places you in the bed, sheets nice and cozy warm from the dryer. “Come here, lovely, let me squeeze you some more.” You fall into his arms as his hands go back to their previous location. “I’ve got you; get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake.” Between his lovely massage and the clean sheets, your eyes can’t help but close. The pain a faint memory as you wonder what you did to deserve a man like Emmett.  

[annwrites24]

Organized by @dindjarindiaries for December 2024!

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: M, but all my content and my blog are 18+ only

Word count: 1088

Tags (All parts): fluff, some angst, developing relationship, mentions of loss of parents, second person POV, no use of y/n, hints of smut if you squint.

A/N: late again, but I offer lots of extra fluffy things as an apology.

Day Twenty-Five: Holiday

Din is watching you play with Grogu in the snow; it continued to fall well into the night, and now the white powder drifts are nearly tall enough to swallow the child whole if he loses his balance. Despite this, he is unafraid as he squeals and chases after you as you jog away, shrieking and laughing and feigning horror whenever he gets close to catching up with you. Din watches as Grogu finally tags you and you fall into the snow on your back, giggling as Grogu crawls over you.

Alright, you win. You got me, you laugh, and then you set Grogu down. He immediately falls back and starts working on a snow angel, giggling as he flails his arms in the snow. You get up and make your way over to Din, pulling up one of the stumps of uncut wood next to him so you can sit down.

He’s having a good time. He can finally enjoy the weather a little, Din says softly, and you nod enthusiastically. With your cheeks flushed and eyes shining in the cold, he thinks you might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, and he’s grateful for the hundredth time that his helmet hides the way he’s blushing.

When do you need to leave? you ask quietly, and although Din can tell you are trying your hard to be tactful, he thinks you sound a little disappointed. He sighs, and your brow furrows. He doesn’t want you to worry, but the weather, the travel, the problems with his ship… each has taken its toll. He’s tired. He wants to rest, but can’t bring himself to do so.

I don’t know. I’m tired, he blurts out, and then feels immediately guilty about the way your eyes go wide and how concerned you look. I’ll fix up the ship soon, he continues, but you’re already shaking your head at him.

You deserve a chance to rest, Din, you insist softly, and Din feels his resolve crumble the second you say his name. He’ll do anything you ask, follow any command you issue if you use that gentle tone. And it’s an unexpected relief to hear he has permission to take the rest he needs, so he nods.

Alright. I’ll stay today and fix the ship tomorrow. We can leave tomorrow night.

Din has never gone so long without thinking about his next job, his next quarry. But it’s been hours since the damage to the Razor Crest, and the time pressure of his contracts has crossed his mind. He’s always early with his deliveries, and in all likelihood, he will still be early, even with the delay. However, resting in the middle of a job is still a foreign idea. It should be causing him anxiety. It should be making his chest hurt and his breathing shallow.

But instead, Din is relaxed. Grogu plays in the snow all morning, only letting you force him back inside for some weak tea when the tips of his ears and cheeks turn pink. You manage to get both of them in by the fire to warm up, and to Din’s surprise, you reveal a host of activities intended to keep all three of you busy inside. Din spends the afternoon sitting on the floor with his son in his lap, patiently helping him cut paper into snowflakes and thread popcorn on a line.

It takes a little convincing, but eventually, Din convinces you to let him make dinner while you rest by the fire. He likes preparing food; the cutting and preparation put his mind at ease, and are almost a form of meditation. And a small part of him clings to any sense of usefulness that isn’t tied to his ability to fight and kill.

You praise him dramatically as you eat, thanking him for the simple soup. Din thinks you’re exaggerating, but he feels a surge of pride when you both finish quickly and ask for more. Full and happy, Grogu plays on the floor with his little silver ball, and Din watches you roll it back and forth with him for hours. When Grogu starts yawning, you scoop him up and help him snuggle into bed, humming softly as you move. When you return, Din’s heart starts to pound as you join him in his chair and tuck your body next to his.

How are you feeling, you ask him softly, and Din has to clear his throat before he replies.

Good. Better. Comfortable, he adds under his breath, but you catch him and laugh softly.

I’m exhausted, you pretend to complain. Grogu has so much energy; I don’t know how you keep up with him on your own.

Not very well, Din admits. He got into a lot of trouble. He squeezes your shoulder, and you lay one arm over his stomach and squeeze back in response. Din glances down; in the low fire light, he can see you’re starting to fall asleep. We should go to bed.

You’re probably right, you agree, and yawn on cue, making Din chuckle.

He helps you to your feet, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to wash up while Din removes his armour. He doesn’t even second guess it anymore; he sleeps without it when he’s sleeping with you. When he’s finished stacking it neatly at the end of the bed, save for his helmet, he perches on the edge and waits nervously until you return.

You sleep in a shirt of his that he lent you when you first joined him on his ship. He loves that you still wear it, and you seem comfortable and happy, even though it doesn’t fit; you’re smaller than he is. You smile shyly at him when you reappear, and he has to resist the urge to tackle you onto the bed. Instead, he pulls you gently onto the mattress and lets you get comfortable with your back to him before he reaches up to pull his helmet off. He settles in and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He gently kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, trying to demonstrate his gratitude for what you’ve done for him. But it’s not enough.

Thank you for making me stay here today, he says softly, and you take his hand and kiss it before pulling it around yourself again.

I’m glad you did. You sigh contentedly, and Din can feel himself starting to fall asleep, but not before you add, goodnight, Din.

Find my other fics on AO3! Header art by me. I do not give permission for any of my work, whole or in part, to be fed into any AI generative program under any circumstances.

[slusheeduck]

Fictober23 Day 19 - Prompt: "Give me that, before anything happens." Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“Falerin, darling, the embroidery on your gloves is coming undone. It’s making me nervous.”

Falerin, bruised and battered after their most recent encounter with a set of Absolute cultists, looked over at Astarion, equally bruised and battered, as they returned to camp. He blinked. “Is this…really the time?” He shook his head. “I’ll just pull it out in the morning.”

“No, you will not.” Astarion’s hand was out, making a little grabby motion. “Just…give me that, before anything happens.”

Falerin sighed, rolling his eyes, but he handed them over. “Have fun. I’m going to go wash up.”

He did go wash up. By the time he returned to camp, his gloves’ embroidery was neatly restored, with a few holes darned up as well.

-

“Lae’zel, far be it from me to discourage showing more skin, but your shirt’s about thirty seconds from falling to pieces.”

Lae’zel whirled around at Astarion’s comment, eyes narrowed. “The target is just ahead. My shirt is immaterial.”

“Well, it’s nearly there.” Astarion held out his hand. “Let me fix it. It won’t take ten minutes, and you won’t be embarrassed when we do our good deed and you’re left in rags.” His fingers twitched in a silent give it here. “I’ll close my eyes if you’re feeling bashful.”

Lae’zel huffed and rolled her eyes, but she did stop long enough to shrug off her shirt and hand it over to Astarion. She watched as he pulled a needle, already threaded, from his pack, and settled down beside him to watch as he fixed it up.

“Why do you have that with you? It’s…unhelpful.”

“Perhaps to you,” he said, squinting as he lined up a large tear. “If I’m going to be killed by mind-flayers or goblins or cultists or what have you, I’m going to make sure I’m an exquisite corpse. Well, more than I am now, anyway. And I don’t want any of you bringing that legacy down because you look like a bunch of vagrants.”

True to his word, the shirt was fixed in under ten minutes. He held it back out to Lae’zel, who pulled it on. Her brows drew together.

“It’s…sturdier than I remember.”

“Well, part of that is because it was just barely hanging together. I reinforced the stitching along the arms.” He tucked the needle away and go to his feet. “Now that that’s done, let’s go hurt some people.”

-

Gale squinted at the pillow he’d picked up in the goblin camp. It…could do for Tara, if she came back around. A little threadbare, yes, but in decent enough condition.

“Looking at decorating?” Astarion drawled as he walked past. “I don’t think that really matches the rest of your décor.”

Gale sighed. “It’s for Tara. If she comes back—and I’m sure she will—I won’t hear the end of it if I make her sit in the grass.”

Astarion paused. “You’re getting…that for Tara? Are you trying to make her feel like a pauper?”

Gale huffed. “I don’t exactly have the luxury of stopping into a shop, do I?” He shook his head. “It’ll have to do.”

“It will not.” Astarion held out his hand. “Give it here.”

Gale looked over at him curiously, but shrugged. “If you can make it nicer, be my guest.”

The next morning, a “Gale, here” was all the warning the wizard got before getting a decorative pillow thrown directly at his face. He caught it after a slight fumble, then looked it over. It was the pillow he’d been looking at the night before, with a new lease on life from the look of it—the stitching had been reinforced and formerly threadbare flowers and vines restored. Most notably, though, was the large, flourished embroidery that read “Tara” in big letters along one side.

Gale blinked, bewildered. “That’s…thank you, Astarion, that’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Astarion scoffed. “It’s hardly kind. I did it because that’s what Tara deserves.”

-

“…you’re going to be here all week if you think that’s the best way to get stitching out.”

Shadowheart jumped, and she glanced back behind her at Astarion. She sighed, looking back down at the altar cloth in her hands. It was black and silky, with a mangled cluster of silver embroidery in the corner. She sighed.

“It used to have a prayer, down there,” she said quietly. “To the Lady of Sorrows. I really should just toss the whole thing out, but I…” She glanced over as Astarion held out his hand, fingers twitching. “Will…you throw it out for me?”

“Maybe.” He took the cloth from her, looking it over appraisingly. “Or maybe a black silk scarf will look terribly dashing on me. Either way, I’ll take care of it.”

Shadowheart gave a small nod, taking a breath. “I think I’ll go to bed. You can…do what you’d like with that.”

“Oh, I intend to. Good night, darling.” He sauntered off.

A few days later, as Shadowheart came out of her tent, she was greeted with her altar cloth neatly folded on a stool. The original embroidery had been removed without a trace, and instead of the expanse of black, a charming scene of a night sky had been embroidered into the silk, with a detailed moon hanging in the corner.

-

Astarion tried to ignore what he saw in the corner of his eye. He focused harder on his book, but the little brown blur in his peripheral didn’t go away. Not only that, but it got closer. Finally, he sighed and shut his book to look at the stuffed bear right beside his face. Behind it, Karlach wore a pleading expression.

“Asti?”

“You only call me that when you want something.” He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Did you rip him again?”

“His ear caught on my armor when we were moving camp.” She turned Clive’s head, showing an ear just barely hanging on to his head. “Can you…?”

Astarion rolled his eyes, then held out his hand. Clive was deposited, and Karlach waited in eager anticipation as he went into surgery. After a few deft stitches, Astarion snipped the thread, then looked him over.

“His leg’s a bit loose, give me a moment,” he murmured, going back in with his needle. Shortly after, Clive—good as new—was held out to the tiefling. “Be more careful with him.”

“You’re the best, Asti,” Karlach gushed, giving Clive a squeeze before heading back to her tent.

-

“Wyll, you are causing me physical pain. Stop.”

Wyll looked up from his work. The shoulder of his cloth armor had torn in their last tussle, and he was using their bit of downtime to stitch it back up. Across from him, Astarion was leaning forward, hand against his mouth and red eyes boring into the warlock.

“I’m…just trying to fix it up. I do this all the time.”

“And you’re using a whip stitch?” Astarion held out his hand. “Give it to me. I can’t bear anymore of this torture.”

Wyll hesitated. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, yes I do. I’m not saving the world with someone who’s dressed like a scarecrow.”

Wyll sighed, then handed the armor, needle, and thread over. He scooted a bit closer as Astarion got to work. “I’m surprised you’re so good with a needle and thread.”

“Well, if Cazador couldn’t be bothered to give me more than rats to eat, it shouldn’t be surprising that I was on my own to keep from wearing rags.” He squinted at the tear, then set to work; his stitches were so neat and small that they disappeared into the cloth. “Besides, two hundred years of imprisonment is a very long time, even for elves. You need a hobby if you’re going to get out with your sanity intact. Embroidery’s good for that.”

Wyll smiled. “Maybe you could make a nice living on that once we’re done. Set up a nice tailor shop.”

Astarion scoffed. “Go on the straight and narrow? Wyll, you’re adorable, but there’s plenty of unattended goods out there just begging to find their way into my pockets.” He finished up his stitching, giving the armor an experimental tug before he snapped off the thread. “There. Do try to be more careful, and for the gods’ sake, just bring it to me before you butcher your next piece of apparel.” Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9

Today's (7/24/2024) Episode: A Double Triple Threat

Unfortunately for Peachy, who had been looking forward to celebrating his sudden acclaim, the morning following his impromptu stand-up special began with both he and Noemi feeling quite ill.

It was unclear whether Noemi brought it home from the hospital, Peachy brought it home from the studio, or some unwitting visitor brought it to them both, but the two sims found themselves down and out, suffering from some nasty virus.

Their partners were quite worried given Peachy's age and Noemi's fragile post-recovery state, but neither sim was willing to check in with an MD.

Noemi had just gotten home, and she was fearful of being admitted again. She'd already missed enough time with Skye, and she swore she didn't even feel that bad. She was sure some juice and rest would fix her right up.

As for Peachy, he was way too busy to bother with the doctor. He had new material to write, meetings for his new show to take… he certainly didn’t have time to “spend hours at the clinic being told what I already know".

“Besides,” he jokingly told his wife, "I'm five minutes away from kicking the bucket, what's the difference if it happens 2 minutes earlier?!"

The pair hoped that their illness would quickly fade, but reality decided to go in a different direction. That afternoon Luigi discovered Noemi in bed , too sick to get up, while Valentina found Peachy in the office, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain.

The remaining healthy members of the household agreed that this "wait and see" plan had officially worn out it’s welcome.

Calling Grandpa Candor over to watch Skye, they dragged their shaky legged loves directly to the clinic, accepting no more excuses or delays.

Even in his current state the long-time comedian found humor in his situation as he once again ended up sharing a hospital room with a family member.

“At least this time my made for TV face isn’t getting even more character, I don’t think the makeup team would thank me!” he chortled merrily.

It was as slow as Peachy had feared to get answers at the clinic. Feeling better on his IV drip, he was even begging Valentina to fetch his laptop when the doctor finally came in to tell them that they had both been diagnosed with Triple Threat, a serious malady that had a history with their family. 

When Noemi heard she would have to go into surgery, again, she immediately started to cry. She didn't want another surgery and she certainly didn’t want to be admitted – she'd missed enough time with her baby already!

The doctor came over to help Luigi assure her that Triple Threat surgery didn’t typically require a prolonged hospital stay, and all would be well.

Noemi might have a slightly longer recovery period seeing as she was still not fully healed from her previous abdominal surgery, but even with that and careful monitoring of her recovery, she’d be on her way home to Skye that evening… tomorrow morning at the latest.

After that it was more hurry up and wait as the two sims were prepped for their procedure. When they were finally taken into the operating theater Luigi and Valentina retired to the waiting area. They’d barely gotten seated before Luigi’s frustration surfaced.

“What does The Watcher think they’re doing anyway!? What did dad, and especially poor Noemi, do to deserve this kind of treatment?”

Valentina and Peachy had never believed in Jack's tales of the omnipresent "other" overseeing their daily existence, but she didn't try to argue with her boy’s faith. “I’m so sorry this keeps happening, but you know I’ll be right here with you as long as I’m needed”.

Fortunately, the staff kept them informed as the surgeries progressed without any complications. Despite nearly a best-case outcome, the Doctor still recommended that they err on the side of caution and keep both high-risk patients overnight for observation, just in case.

Knowing that their partners were desperate to get home, Luigi and Valentina compromised on just a few more hours of observation and then careful monitoring by family, coming back in at the first sign of any worsening or worrying symptoms. Their loved ones would be coming home tonight!

Once Peachy and Noemi were back home and tucked snugly in bed to rest Valentina went to check in on Skye while Luigi texted his gaming buddies and fired up the living room console to relieve his stress with a few rounds of party frenzy.

Seriously, he thought to himself, enough was enough already! As he got logged in and filled his friends in on the latest disaster over voice chat, he silently prayed that no more bad luck was headed his family's way anytime soon.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[heaven-s-black-box]

The Nutcracker- Childe x gn!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: December 24th, 2023

Description: Ajax returns home for Christmas and gifts a nutcracker to Teucer. After a scuffle with Anton it's broken, and when he goes to fix it late at night he finds himself drawn into a war with... mice?

Notes: Warning for Childe typical violence. Gn reader, they/them pronouns and no body descriptions, because everyone deserves to be the nutcracker! Also, according to google Princen is a gender neutral term for Prince/Princess. Merry Christmas if you celebrate, and if not, happy holidays!

Word count: 1 120

Back to directory

Ajax loves christmas. Not because he gets the day off, or because of the food, but because he gets to watch his siblings' faces light up as they open their presents. It’s a whole affair, where everyone goes to his parents place for dinner and presents, and Teucer will be standing at the door to count everyone as they arrive because he just can’t wait. Tonia and Anton will be in the kitchen helping their mother, and his older siblings will be sitting in the living room with their father to catch up. He’ll arrive with a bag of gifts for everyone, and Teucer will tail him to the tree where he’ll stack them before joining the adults in the living room.

After dinner, which Tucer nearly chokes on as he rushes to finish it, they sit around the tree and open presents.

“Be careful,” his mother scolds as Teucer begins tearing into the wrapping paper. “It could be fragile.”

The others all watch patiently as Teucer sets the unwrapped box on the floor, and carefully shimmies the lid off to reveal packing paper. His excited smile drops into a small frown as he looks up at Ajax, head tilted in confusion. Ajax can see his older siblings stifling laughs in the corner of his eye, while his father sighs and his mother gently smacks her forehead.

“Paper?”

“It’s wrapped in paper, silly,” Anton sighs, reaching over and pulling back some of the stiff white wrapping.

“Oh!” Teucer’s smile quickly returns as he pulls the paper out of the box.

“It’s fragile!”

“Sorry.”

Teucer stops his rabid tearing, though he’s already revealed the black top of whatever it was. He carefully removed the rest of the wrapping, cradling the gift in his arms so it didn’t fall.

“What is it?”

“Cool!” Anton cheered, grabbing the gift from Teucer.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Anton, give it back!”

“But I want a toy soldier like this.”

Teucer grabbed hold of the soldiers head and began pulling it back towards him.

“Well-” A yank, “this one-” another yank, “is mine!”

Before any of the adults could step in, Teucer fell back holding only the top half of the soldier's head while Anton kept the rest of him.

“Anton!” His father scolded as his mother sank to the floor to check on Teucer.

Uninjured, Teucer began to cry– sobbing about his broken gift.

“Teucer,” Ajax sighed, “bring it here, I’ll fix it.”

Anton, with an apologetic look on his face, handed the body over to Teucer who passed both parts up to Ajax. He looked at it for a moment, inspecting where it’d come apart, before nodding to himself.

“I’ll fix it tonight, and then show you what it does in the morning.”

“What it does?”

“Yup,” he laughed, “it’s a nutcracker.”

---

As punishment for breaking Teucer’s nutcracker, Anton had to wait for the next day to open his present– which was a set of toy soldiers that Ajax was sure he would’ve loved to play with tonight. So after everyone else opened their gifts, the youngest three had been ushered off to bed and the adults– worn from travel, cooking, and Teucer’s excitement– followed suit.

It was only after he’d changed into his sleepwear that Ajax returned to the living room to fix the nutcracker. He yawns, rubbing his eyes, as the clock strikes midnight and he enters the room.

Something brushes past his foot and he jumps, turning round just in time to see a mouse scurry into a hole in the wall. He doesn’t remember that hole being there earlier, so he kneels down to investigate. As soon as he peers into the hole, a cacophony of squeaks seems to fill the room, and a swarm of mice rush in.

Startled, he backs away. A creaking and cracking sound makes him turn around to find the already large christmas tree seemingly growing in height as the ceiling looks to grow with it.

He’s not sure what comes over him, why his guard is so let down, but it startles him and he stumbles back only to bump into something.

He steps forward and whips around, fists drawn to fight the intruder, only finding a life sized version of the once broken nutcracker.

“What the- ah!” He yelps as the nutcracker moves, pushing him behind them and pointing their sword at the now life sized mice. 

In a brief moment of clarity from this fever dream he’s found himself in, he considers that maybe he’s been shrunk, but it’s unimportant as a mouse with seven heads– each adorned in a crown– approaches.

There’s a dull thumping sound as the box with Anton’s gift shakes, then the wrapping tears and the lid of the box is knocked off allowing ten toy soldiers to emerge. Ajax finds himself sidelined in the ensuing battle, running from the mice that chose to target him. The gingerbread his older brother had brought descended from the end table to join the fight, while the doll he had given Tonia scurried about to help the wounded.

It’s during this fight, as he weaves between mice, gingerbread men, and soldiers, that he notices the nutcracker’s movements are sluggish. Their balance was off, they seemed to double step alot and didn’t notice opponents until they were right in front of them. 

As he watched them take on two mice along, Ajax noticed the rat king sneaking up on them. His sword was raised to take them out, and Ajax found himself finally able to move as he wanted.

He tackled the rat king, knocking him to the ground and startling the nutcracker into turning around.

“Watch you back!”

The nutcracker turned just in time to block another swipe from a mouse. Ajax raised his fist back and landed a solid punch to the center mouse head, then another, then, another, and another, and another until it was questionable if the head had ever looked like the other six in the first place.

He’d become so engrossed that he missed the way the fighting around him stopped. His violent assault was only stopped when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Looking back, he found the nutcracker standing over him, and he looked around, finding all eyes on him. He lowered his fist as he looked back at the nutcracker who had extended a hand for him to take.

His blood soaked hand stained the pristine white glove as he took their hand and used to leverage to stand up. The mice carefully approached, taking their king away, and leaving Ajax alone with the nutcracker as everything else returned to their original places.

“What is going on?”

The nutcracker let go of his hand and stepped back. In a swirl of snowflakes and blue light, Ajax found the nutcracker to be replaced by a Princen in a puffy white shirt and black slacks. They smiled and waved for him to follow, then began to make their way to the base of the christmas tree where he noticed rows of other trees had now appeared.

“Hey!” He called after them. “You didn’t answer my question!”

The Princen stopped, turning back to him, and waving for him to follow once more.

Seeing no other option, he jogged after them into the snowy pine forest.